


Race Against the Clock

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s05e17 99 Problems, Episode: s05e18 Point of No Return, Gen, Hurt Castiel (Supernatural), POV Castiel, Protective Sam Winchester, Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 03:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17418608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Dean leaves, but Castiel and Sam have one more chance to make sure he doesn't make the biggest mistake of his life.





	Race Against the Clock

It didn't seem like much. A few words, coming out of the mouth of a young woman. Strange words, yes. Meaningless babble, most likely.

Except the babble was  _not_  meaningless, and Castiel knew it. Still, he tried desperately to hold on for one more second, because then maybe the priest could kill the Whore. But the spell was making his Grace tear itself apart, and his Grace was tattered enough as it was, so it only took an instant for his grip to loosen and for Castiel to fall to the ground. The Whore was doing something to Sam and Dean and the pastor, but Castiel didn't know what it was. His world was pain, nothing but pain, and he tried to curl in on himself to stop his Grace from destroying itself but he couldn't.

Castiel could feel it as the Whore died. It didn't change anything, not for him. The pain from the spell still existed, whether the caster still lived or not. His fingers scrabbled at the floor, wanting something to hold on to. Except they didn't, not really, because Castiel was trapped within his own mind at that point with a limp body that ignored his commands. His fingers didn't move, his lips wouldn't form words, he couldn't lift himself off the ground.

A few moments after the Whore died, Dean entered the room. "Cas?" he called. Castiel couldn't answer. "Cas!" Dean was beside him in a moment, shaking him gently. Castiel's head lolled. "Damn, that bitch really got you good, didn't she?"

If Castiel could speak, he would tell Dean that the phrase "got you good" was in no way at all proper English, and he would clarify that this was the Whore's doing, not that of a bitch, and he would inform Dean that yes, he was in a great deal of pain, and shaking him wasn't helping. But Castiel's body stubbornly remained limp. Dean hauled him to his feet and began to drag him out of the room. Castiel regained enough control to shuffle alongside him, but that was all he could manage.

"I killed the Whore," Dean murmured. "Not the pastor. Me. I guess that means I'm a true servant of Heaven, huh? I'm Michael's vessel. There's no use in denying it anymore."

No no no no  _no_  this was  _wrong_! Castiel tried to fight against the pain and tell Dean that he was wrong, that he could be a servant of Heaven without being Michael's vessel, that he should deny it until the end of his days because he  _couldn't say yes_. All Castiel succeeded in doing was cause the pain to spike, dragging a gasp out through his unresponsive lips.

Dean paused for a moment. "You okay?"

Castiel couldn't respond. His body still refused to obey his commands. Dean started walking again after a moment. They met up with Sam, who was supporting the pastor, and made their way to the car. Sam was asking Dean some sort of question that Castiel supposed was probably important, but he couldn't hear it. His Grace refused to stop tearing at itself and if the spell didn't wear off soon, there wouldn't be any Grace left for it to destroy.

Before Castiel knew it, they were at the Impala, and Dean was gently placing him in the seat. When Dean shut the door, Castiel's head leaned against the window. It was nice and cool, a welcome sensation. One hand was in Castiel's lap, the other limp on the seat between him and the pastor. Castiel was barely aware of any external sensations, but he could feel a hand covering his and hear the dim sound of the pastor saying something.

It sounded like a prayer.

Castiel came to again briefly when the car stopped. Dean helped him out, bringing him into the motel room. Castiel could sense Dean's worry as he brushed a hand against Castiel's cheek, but it was overshadowed by Dean's own fears. He was going to say yes to Michael. Castiel wanted to stop him, had to stop him, but he couldn't.

Dean propped Castiel up on one of the motel beds. Castiel had to overcome the pain, just for a moment. Dean was right there, and if Castiel grabbed his hand and kept him from leaving, maybe Dean would come to his senses. Castiel's hand was  _so close_ …

Then Dean walked away and the opportunity was lost.

Castiel was faintly aware of a discussion between Sam and Dean, then the door closed and Castiel knew it was too late. A second later Castiel heard the sound of the Impala's engine turning over and Dean was gone.

Castiel slipped out of consciousness again, knowing he had failed.

* * *

"Cas." A familiar voice was dragging Castiel out of the blackness. The pain was still gnawing behind his ribs, but it was slightly lessened now. Castiel wasn't sure if it was because the spell was wearing off or because there wasn't as much Grace left for the spell to work on.

"Cas!" the voice repeated. Castiel was able to drag his eyes open to see Sam's worried face in front of him. "Cas, you there?"

Castiel wondered if he could speak. His first attempt was little more than a croak, but Sam seemed prepared for that. He picked up a bottle of water and tipped the contents into Castiel's mouth, wetting his throat. The second attempt at speech was marginally better.

"Sam," Castiel managed to get out. "What's wrong?"

"Dean's gone," Sam told Castiel worriedly.

Castiel felt the grief like a blow. He had been holding on to some shred of hope, that perhaps Dean had gone out to get something and would be returning shortly. Sam's words meant that wasn't the case.

"Cas!" Sam sounded worried. "Cas, stay with me."

"I apologize," Castiel mumbled. "Did Dean go to say yes to Michael?"

"I think so," Sam replied. His anxiety was like an aura hovering over him that Castiel couldn't miss. "Can you, I don't know, use the angel radio to pick up something on him? Like, can you check if Michael's jumped his ass yet or not?"

Castiel closed his eyes and prodded experimentally at his Grace. A veritable tsunami of pain washed over him, leaving him gasping for breath and unable to sit upright. Sam grabbed him before he fell over completely. Castiel was fairly certain Sam was saying something, but what it was, he had no idea. The pain was overtaking all other sensations, keeping everything else out. It took a few minutes for Castiel to be able to even open his eyes.

"Cas!" Sam was calling, sounding almost panicked. "Cas, what's wrong?"

"I can't," Castiel whispered. Blackness was beginning to encroach on the corners of his vision. He thought that was probably a bad thing. "I can't listen for Dean."

"Okay," Sam replied soothingly. "It's okay, you don't have to. I think I know where he might be going anyway." Sam paused. "If I help you out to the car, do you think you'll be okay?"

Castiel had no idea if he would be alright or not. "Yes," he murmured in response. Sam swallowed hard before putting an arm around Castiel's back and hauling him into an upright position. The pain flared up again and Castiel's breathing hitched.

"Shit. Sorry," Sam apologized. "You gonna be okay if I start walking?"

"Yes," Castiel repeated. He would find some way to deal with the pain. He wasn't sure how, but he'd figure it out.

"Alright," Sam replied, sounding a little doubtful. He half-carried Castiel out of the motel room, taking him slowly towards a car Castiel didn't recognize. The pain wasn't as bad as it had been before, but it still made Castiel's head spin.

"The car is from the pastor," Sam babbled. He sounded nervous. "It was his daughter's. He doesn't want it anymore. When I told him what was going on, he told me to take it. It's not the best car in the world, but it'll get us where we need to go." Sam opened up the passenger door and helped Castiel into the seat. "Stay with me, okay?"

"I'll try," Castiel replied, his voice slightly doubtful.

Sam's expression tightened, but he didn't fight Castiel on it. "Okay." Sam went into the driver's seat and pulled out of the motel parking lot. There was a speed bump at the entrance, and when the car passed over it, the pain in Castiel's chest spiked and darkness overtook his vision. The next thing he knew, Sam was calling his name frantically and shaking him slightly.

"Cas! Cas, come on, stay with me, goddamn it!"

"Don't blaspheme," Castiel mumbled.

Sam let out a relieved sigh. "Really?" he asked in a voice that sounded a tiny bit hysterical. " _That's_  what you say? I thought you were gonna be okay in the car!"

"I apologize." Castiel's voice was weak, but even just that much was causing his Grace to tear at itself even more.

"Don't apologize, Cas! Are you gonna be okay?"

"I believe so," Castiel replied. "It was the bump in the road that caused this." Not that the spell made it easy for him to stay conscious the rest of the time either, but Castiel decided to keep that to himself.

"I don't want to do this if it's gonna hurt you. You look like you're about to keel over." Sam's face reflected that worry, and it was strangely touching to know he cared.

"Dean is more important," Castiel replied firmly. "I will not die. This spell is not designed to do that. Keep driving." Sam gave Castiel a dubious look, but he pulled away from the side of the road and continued driving. Castiel closed his eyes, trying to focus on healing himself. But the spell was still wreaking havoc on his Grace, and without using his Grace, there wasn't much he could do.

"How long has it been?" Castiel suddenly asked.

Sam frowned. "What do you mean?" he asked. "How long has it been since what?"

"Since the Whore cursed me," Castiel clarified.

"Um… About an hour? Maybe?" Sam replied. "Why?"

"The spell should wear off before too long," Castiel told Sam, and he couldn't hide his relief as he did so. "It's not designed to last very long."

"What does the spell do anyway?" Sam asked.

Castiel shifted slightly in the seat and groaned as it made the pain increase. "It makes my Grace attack itself. It's trying to tear itself apart."

"But isn't your Grace, like, the angel equivalent of a soul?" Sam asked. Castiel nodded wearily. "So what happens if it succeeds in destroying itself?"

"It… should not do that," Castiel replied hesitantly.

Sam's brow creased in a frown. "But what if it does? Could it kill you?"

There was a pause.

"Theoretically, yes," Castiel replied honestly. "But I doubt it will do so."

"Damn it, Cas!" Sam swore. "Why the hell didn't you tell me that?"

"I did not think it was relevant," Castiel replied, puzzled. "We are going to find Dean. What does it matter? That course of the events will probably not come to pass."

"But what if it does? Dean will kill me if you end up dead. And it won't help with the whole saying-yes-to-Michael thing."

"I… I'm sorry," Castiel apologized. "I did not think you would care."

"You… Cas, you're part of this family now. If you're in pain, I care. And Dean does too, even if he sucks at showing it."

"I did not know," Castiel said in a small voice.

Sam sighed. "Well, now you do," he replied. "How're you doing?"

"Better," Castiel replied. And he was better. Marginally. The spell was beginning to wear off, and as long as Castiel didn't even try to use his Grace for the next half-hour or so, he thought he would be alright. His Grace would be weakened for a longer time than that, and if he was forced to use it more (which he probably would be), he could drain it entirely. But Castiel didn't tell Sam that.

"Good," Sam replied. "When we catch up to Dean, the easiest thing to do would be to use angel mojo to knock him out. Will you be able to do it?"

"Potentially," Castiel replied honestly. "It depends on how long it takes us to find him. The spell is wearing off. I should be able to use my Grace in around half an hour."

"I doubt we'll find Dean before that," Sam replied, sounding relieved. Castiel didn't mention that, even if he  _could_  use his Grace in half an hour, he probably  _shouldn't_. That was extraneous information. Castiel knew it really wasn't, but he pretended it was so he didn't have to tell Sam. If he told Sam, then Sam might want to baby him rather than go find Dean, and Dean was clearly more important. Castiel couldn't risk it. He'd burn his Grace out completely before he let Dean say yes to Michael.

"You want to sleep or something?" Sam asked, looking over at Castiel. "You look pretty beat. I'll wake you up when we get close to Dean."

"Alright." Castiel wasn't quite sure how he was supposed to go about falling asleep, but it turned out all he had to do was close his eyes and he lost consciousness almost immediately.

* * *

Castiel regained consciousness without Sam having to wake him up. The pain in his chest had subsided, although it was not quite gone. A glance at the clock told him it had been nearly an hour. Castiel tried not to worry about that. Everything he knew about the spell that had been used on him told him that it should have been done working by that point. But then again, what exactly had the Whore said when she cast the spell? Castiel didn't doubt there were provisions that would make the spell last longer, nor did he put it past the Whore to have used one. She would have had to  _say_  it, though, and that should have made it easy to figure out what she had done, but Castiel was having trouble remembering the exact wording of the spell.

"Sam?" he asked quietly.

Sam jumped. "Cas! You okay? It's been almost an hour. We missed Dean's first stop, but I think I know where he's going. Is the spell gone?"

"No," Castiel admitted. Sam's face fell. "I believe the Whore used an adaptation of the spell that makes it last longer. It is fading, but not as quickly as I would have hoped."

"Oh." Sam looked worried. "You sure you'll be okay?"

"Where is Dean going?" Castiel countered.

Sam sighed. "Well, I knew he was going to have to get gas for the Impala. I found the station, and the guy told me Dean was there, but he had already left. But I think he's going to go see Lisa next."

"Lisa?" Castiel asked, his voice slightly drowsy.

"She's an old ex-fling of his. She's got a kid that might be Dean's, I'm not sure. He's around the right age. Anyway, the year after Dean sold his soul, he wanted to visit her, so I'm guessing he'll want to see her again this time around. Assuming she hasn't moved, we'll be at her house in…" Sam checked his phone. "Forty-two minutes."

"Oh," Castiel replied. It was getting harder and harder to keep his eyes open.

Sam chuckled slightly, but the noise was tight and nervous. "Go back to sleep, Cas. I'll wake you when we get to Lisa's."

"Thank you, Sam," Castiel muttered, then the blackness overtook him once more.

* * *

Sam shook Castiel awake around a hour later. "We're at Lisa's," he told Castiel softly. "You still don't look too good."

"I feel better," Castiel replied. It wasn't a lie. He did feel better, if only marginally. The spell had faded more, and while it still lingered, it lingered with far less power. There was another feeling, an external one, that felt almost like a tug, but Castiel couldn't tell what it was.

"Is Dean here?" Castiel asked hoarsely.

Sam shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together. "I don't think so. I don't see the Impala. But I'm going to go ask Lisa if she's seen him. Do you want to come with me, or do you want to stay in the car?"

Castiel weighed the options. He wanted to be there when Sam asked Lisa if she had seen Dean. It was harder to lie to an angel than it was to lie to a human. However, Castiel wasn't entirely sure how long he would be able to support himself if he had to stand.

Suddenly, the tug pulled and Castiel gasped. "Cas?" Sam demanded, but Castiel ignored him as clarity exploded across his mind.

"I can find Dean," he told Sam urgently. "When I pulled him from Hell, I left a trace amount of my Grace in his soul. I can track him with that."

"Will it be too much for you?" Sam asked worriedly.

Castiel shook his head. "With my Grace as weak as it is, it's actively seeking out anything to strengthen it. I can feel the pull to Dean without doing anything to provoke it. We can follow it to him."

"Why didn't you feel this pull before?" Sam asked, turning the key in the ignition.

"My Grace is weak enough that the distance stopped me from feeling the Grace in Dean's soul. We're much closer now."

"Where is he?" Sam asked.

Castiel closed his eyes, following the pull. "About a mile and a half, perhaps two miles to the east of us. I can't be more specific until we get closer."

Without another word, Sam pulled away from Lisa's house and began driving east.

The pull intensified as they got closer to Dean, until they finally reached the motel where he was. "Which room?" Sam asked as he and Castiel stepped out of the car.

"That one," Castiel replied, pointing with absolute certainty.

Sam nodded. "It's not going to be easy to get him to come with us," he cautioned. "Do you have enough mojo to knock him out?"

"Yes," Castiel replied. It only took a tiny amount of Grace to do that, and the spell seemed to have finally stopped, leaving the tattered bits of Castiel's Grace to begin to heal. "But if Dean sees me, he'll expect that."

"I can distract him while you sneak in," Sam offered.

Castiel shook his head. "I doubt that will be possible." He gave his wings a small, experimental twitch. "I believe I have enough power to fly a short distance. If Dean does not know I'm with you, I'll be able to fly into the room behind him and knock him out."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked, eyeing Castiel with concern.

Castiel nodded. "Certain," he replied.

Sam sighed. "Alright, we'll go with that."

And so they did.


End file.
